


safe and secure

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Episode: s01e17 Turn Turn Turn, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma's been in a cell for seven terrifying hours when Ward comes to rescue her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe and secure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shineyma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/gifts).



> This is a gift for shineyma for being a STAR and killing it at college this semester and graduating with honors. I am so proud of you, hon. <3

Jemma and Ward haven’t had a conversation lasting more than ten words since Skye was shot. She thinks he might be slightly in love with the young agent and feeling guilty ( _more_ guilty) to have been looking at Jemma the way he was for a while there. Or perhaps he blames her. He says he doesn’t - and it’s been months since any of the team suspected her of working for the Clairvoyant still - but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.

She’s not of course. Working for the Clairvoyant, that is. The most contact she’s had with him since Ward threw a bag over her head in LA was pretending to return to the fold during that disastrous Hong Kong incident. (She _told_ them she was rubbish at undercover work but no one listened, they just kept saying she was their best way in.)

Whatever the case, Jemma and Ward aren’t exactly speaking. That doesn’t stop her from throwing her arms around him when he appears in the doorway sometime in her seventh hour of imprisonment.

He’s stiff with surprise - or injuries, the brief glimpse she got of him was rather worrisome - and his tactical gear is uncomfortable but when his arms lift to wrap around her in return, it feels nothing short of wonderful.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, his voice soft and rough at her ear.

She shakes her head, burying her face deeper in his neck as she does so. She allows herself exactly seven seconds to enjoy it - the warmth and smell and strength of him - before pushing back. His palms brush her hips on the way to his sides and she tries not to read anything into it. (They’re not speaking after all.)

“What’s happened?” she asks, tipping her head to get a better view of his injuries. He’s bloody still. The last she saw of him, he was being handcuffed after shooting her former employer and had sustained no injuries of note during the raid of the facility. But that was before she was thrown unceremoniously in this cell, before she heard yelling and screaming and explosions that left her alternatively very glad for the safety of its four walls and fearful she would be forgotten down here.

He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again as he reconsiders. He looks tired. Jemma’s never seen him look tired, not even after the berserker staff. “Short version: there have been traitors in SHIELD for decades just waiting for the call to bring it all down.” He tips his head. “Call went out.”

The signal, the strange one that caused the computers in the Hub’s nerve center to go haywire. Jemma remembers seeing it just before she was escorted back to her temporary quarters and it was less than half an hour later that she was pulled out of there and escorted down here.

“Hand thought I was one of them,” she surmises.

Ward nods once. “But you’re not,” he says, not even a hint of question in his voice. She’s so touched by his faith in her - and after so many arguments about her loyalties (which are still, as ever, to science; though the team has wormed its way into her heart over the months) - that she can’t find words. She can only stand stunned. And then she’s following when he pulls her along with him through the dark halls of the prison level.

When she was marched through here hours ago it looked much like the rest of the base: stark and shiny, not a hint of decay save for in the prisoners’ eyes. Now there are doors torn off their hinges and stains on the walls that are too varied for even a woman of her talents to identify. She’s very, very lucky none of this ever reached her.

Ward’s knuckles must already be sore from whatever fighting he did on his way down but he doesn’t complain at how tightly she’s holding onto his hand. “It’s all right. SHIELD’s retaken the base,” he says instead.

“I suppose that includes Agent Hand?” she asks, a touch bitterly. The odious woman might as well have thrown her in the cell _before_ all the hubbub, it would have been easier than repeatedly locking her in agent’s quarters.

“Yeah,” Ward says and she doesn’t think he’s too happy either. Not surprising, given it was Hand who left him and Fitz to _die_. She could’ve been the enemy and Jemma wouldn’t have shed a tear.

The signs of chaos and destruction only grow more frequent as they near the main areas of the base. Agents in SHIELD uniforms are held at gunpoint by other agents in SHIELD uniforms, wounded are being treated where they’ve fallen in the hallways - a result, Jemma is told when she pauses to offer aid, of the labs being little more than rubble.

“We’re on a clock,” Ward says from over her shoulder but it’s the only rushing he does.

She applies the sutures as rapidly as she is able and leaves the woman to the care of her fellow agents. As soon as it’s done, Ward has his hand on her arm and is pulling her along through the mess.

“Why are we on a clock?” she asks. “Are we not staying?” If all of SHIELD’s in this much of an uproar, it stands to reason Coulson might want to go elsewhere to do what he can. Perhaps he’ll finally be making his peace with the Avengers, she might get to meet-

Jemma’s thoughts stutter to a halt at the same moment Ward stops in the middle of the hall. She’s been staying with SHIELD because of the protection they offered and she was _kept_ because she had insights into the Clairvoyant’s operation. Not many but she knew more than they did on their own. There’s no telling whether they’ll still want her now that he’s dead (perhaps, a small voice offers, that’s why Ward came alone, perhaps even the team is done with her) and no reason she should want to stay either. She’s safe and throwing herself into SHIELD’s fight just when she’s free of the Clairvoyant’s wrath is the height of stupidity.

Ward sighs heavily, looking not just tired but _old_ and those fears about his appearing alone overwhelm her, turning into something much more worrisome: what if he’s alone because he’s the only one who was  _able_ to come for her?

She’s terrified suddenly he’s about to tell her something she’d rather not hear and, in a supreme act of cowardice, says what she should have from the moment he appeared. “Thank you.”

He blinks, surprised. “We were always gonna get you out, Simmons. You know Coulson would never let Hand lock you up.”

She shakes her head and takes his hand. There’s dried blood on it and the knuckles are bruised. She passes her fingers slowly over the back, drawing them between his fingers with a feather-light touch. “I mean for killing Nash. I know you didn’t do it for me but…” Perhaps in part he did. Before Ward put a stop to it, that hateful computer voice said horrible things about so many of them. It taunted Coulson and promised to tear Skye apart for the secret of her survival, but there was also a frightfully casual mention of the suffering Jemma would endure for her betrayal. When she wasn’t listening to the chaos happening outside her cell, she was haunted by those words.

“I know you’re sure to have gotten in all sorts of trouble and perhaps you still will-” there’s no telling, the shape SHIELD’s in- “but I wanted you to know I don’t think less of you for it. Not in the slightest.”

Ward’s staring at her and it suddenly occurs to her they’re incredibly close, almost breathing the same air. His free hand lifts and his knuckles brush her cheek and she thinks- perhaps-

His hand falls away and he sighs again.

No. Of course not. She’ll forever be the enemy in his eyes - and he’s falling in love with Skye besides. She never should have let herself think-

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he says, cutting cleanly into her thoughts. “Nash was a decoy.” She barely has time to be devastated for him over that before horror washes over her at his next words. “Garrett’s the real Clairvoyant.”

Every single encounter she has ever had with the man flashes through her head in quick succession. Garrett. _Agent_ Garrett who made boorish jokes and laughed with Coulson and teased May. He’s the man who ordered her to kill three test subjects to “cut losses.” He’s the man she’s been living in terror of for the last ten months. Every time they crossed paths with Centipede, she wondered if she’d be captured or lucky enough to be killed on the spot and it turns out he could have taken her at any time.

Ward’s hands are on her shoulders, keeping her upright. “He’s not going to hurt you,” he promises, kneading feeling gently back into her flesh. “We captured him and everything’s gonna be okay. You trust me, right?”

She nods, still numb. She thinks that’s the end of it but Ward keeps holding on, looking at her with a sad puppy expression that reminds her of the way he slunk around in the wake of the berserker staff’s influence. She understands now why he came alone, why none of the others came along to bring her out. It wasn’t distrust, it was his apology to her.

She catches his wrist and squeezes. “You didn’t know. Nothing he did is your fault.”

His mouth stretches up on one side but it can’t be called a smile. He doesn’t believe her. Not surprising given that he’s likely heard similar sentiments from the rest of the team.

“We really are on a clock,” is all he says and she follows quietly rather than attempt convincing him. He needs time just as she did - just as she _does_ \- to believe the same. She’s guilty of any number of crimes from her time working on the Centipede serum but she’s come to realize the rest - Agent Amador’s mutilation, Coulson’s torture, Skye’s near-fatal wounds - are not hers to count. The team helped her realize that and even Ward helped in his own way (though he made no secret of distrusting her for the longest time); now it’s her chance to return the favor.

And it seems to work, at least a little. After only one flight of stairs he’s come back out of his thoughts well enough to speak again.

“Hand’s taking a team to escort Garrett to the Fridge,” he offers, “I’m on it.”

“Oh.” Her heart drops at the news.

He squeezes her hand. “I wanted to be sure you were safe with the others before I left.”

Her heart does an about-face and, despite the disorientation that comes with such a sensation, she smiles at him. “I’m glad.” She would have worried herself sick if she’d been recovered only to find Ward long gone, perhaps never to return. She frowns and sweeps her eyes once over him. “Though not that you’re leaving without proper medical care.”

He groans.

“I don’t suppose you found an actual medic to clear you?”

“You’re the worst,” he says.

“And _you’re_ my responsibility,” she reminds him. She drops the stern tone. “Be careful.”

“I will,” he promises.

She doesn’t believe him for a second but it will have to do because soon they’ve rounded the next corner and she’s caught up in hugs courtesy of Fitz and Skye. They each offer an odd mix of relief and anger so that on one side she’ll be hearing how happy Skye is she’s safe while on the other Fitz is muttering terrible things about Hand.

Coulson and May are here as well, both alive, both safe, and something in Jemma’s gut unclenches. May actually gives her a _smile_. Jemma holds Fitz and Skye so tight they cease speaking entirely, which leaves them in silence so she clearly hears Coulson’s quiet, “Wait.”

He hasn’t given her more than a cursory glance yet and now moves in, forcing the others to move. “Ward’s told you about the uprising?”

“And about Agent Garrett, yes,” she says. She’s impressed at how evenly the words come out; she wouldn’t have thought herself capable of speaking his name.

Coulson’s mouth thins. “The uprising’s not done. There are still a lot of bases at active war and the Hub’s teetering on the edge.” His eyes flick to Ward but his words are still for Jemma. “It’s not safe for you here. The SHIELD loyal agents may have won but they’re not happy, and seeing a known enemy - even a former one - walking around is gonna ruffle a few feathers.”

Jemma swallows. She may have made it through the mention of Garrett but she feels a stinging in her throat at the prospect of what’s to come next. “Are you asking me to leave?” She asked him that same question once before, after he was recovered in the Mojave Desert. She was sure, after losing Agent Peterson and suffering directly at Centipede’s hands, that he would demand she leave the Bus and find her own way.

He smiles at her exactly as he did then and rests a hand on her shoulder. “No,” he says and lets it hang a moment before continuing. “But you’ll be safer in a different base. Far as we can tell, the HYDRA personnel at the Fridge were minimal and you’ll be invaluable helping check over the stores there to be sure nothing’s missing.” He looks over her shoulder again. “And Ward will keep you safe.”

Ward must give some sign of agreement because Coulson’s eyes fall to her again. “Assuming you want to stay with SHIELD. If there was ever a time to jump ship-”

Jemma hugs him. She’s been wanting to ever since the last time they had this conversation and, as this might be her last chance, she figures she’ll take it. He hugs her back, a quick squeeze that is perhaps a second too long for a SHIELD agent embracing one of his subordinates but that is far too short for the man she’s come to think of as something of a father.

He steps back and nods to them both. “Go. Hand’s waiting.”

Ward takes Jemma’s hand again, which is good - she’s not certain she could leave the room without help. Fitz and Skye swoop in with hugs at the last second, but Ward keeps her moving inexorably onward. They’re near to their destination, which means their strained silence would be almost unnoticeable if he didn’t go and break it once they’re within sight of Hand.

His fingers slip from hers, leaving her cold in the chilly expanse of the hangar. “I’ll keep you safe,” he says, echoing his unspoken promise to Coulson.

“I know,” she says softly and falls a step behind him at the ramp so she has a shield against Hand’s glare. He doesn’t stop the woman from trying to burn holes in Jemma’s skull though.

“I’m a much more demanding taskmaster than Coulson was,” she says, “and we’re in the middle of a war. There’ll be no fun and games at the Fridge.”

Jemma pastes on a smile. “But you’ll be less vengeful than Agent Garrett,” she says, “so I think it all evens out.”

Hand’s mouth twitches and Ward almost smiles behind her back as they head into the quinjet. Of course, the mood evaporates immediately when they reach where Agent Garrett is being held. Ward herds Jemma in first, forcing her into the far corner so he can sit between them. Garrett grins bloodily at them both.

He can’t hurt her. He’s chained, flanked by two of SHIELD’s best, and about to spend the rest of his life in a very small cell. And after she leaves him there he will never see her again. He’ll never know where she is or what she’s doing, never be able to touch her. She’s _safe_.

The fact becomes a little more believable over the course of liftoff as Ward’s body heat bleeds through her skin.

Hand returns once they’re in the air and Jemma’s annoyance spikes for just long enough for her to realize why Hand’s returned. She’s offering Ward the opportunity to “shoot the right Clairvoyant.” He stiffens next to her, stemming Jemma’s hope.

Garrett was his SO. No matter what he’s done, killing him isn’t something that should _ever_ be asked of Ward.

“I’m sure Dr. Simmons would be grateful,” Hand adds. “No more having to look over her shoulder if the bastard’s dead.”

Ward shoots her a look. She says his name and reaches for his hand, but he’s already moving to stand.

“You don’t have to do this,” she says to his back.

“Yes.” He unholsters his sidearm. “I do.”

Garrett’s eyes narrow but his smile only widens. Jemma grips the edge of her seat.

Ward’s head turns, not so far he can see her but far enough she knows he means his words only for her, even if he can’t stop the others from hearing them. “I promised I’d protect you and I meant it.”

He lifts his gun. She should look away - Jemma’s no stranger to violence but a cold execution isn’t something she wants to see - only she can’t. She can’t leave Ward alone in this. And, shamefully, there is a part of her that wants to see the faceless specter from her nightmares die.

Two shots ring out. There’s barely a heartbeat for Jemma to realize the guards are dead before two more follow and Hand collapses to the floor. Ward stands over her, his expression blank and his eyes dark. He waits for her to make a sad, pathetic sound of pain before firing three shots into her head.

Jemma stares at the gun. She can’t move, can’t even _think_. She’s certain that any second the gun will lift in her direction and, when it instead returns to Ward’s holster, she’s so shocked her mouth falls open.

“Wh-what?” she stutters, uncertain whether she means to ask about her continued survival or the others’ deaths.

He spares her a look, just this side of dismissive, before searching the guards for the keys to the cuffs. Jemma can’t move to stop him even though she knows in a few seconds she’ll be outnumbered. (Not that it much matters. She couldn’t take Ward on her own if he were unconscious.) Her breathing is almost deafening in her own ears and she feels as though she’s under water.

“Well,” Garrett says once he’s free, “hell of a day.”

Ward falls into a seat two down from Jemma’s and reaches for her hand. She’s still got the death-grip on the bench and tears her hand away before he can reach it.

Garrett laughs and claps his hands once. “Everything’s looking up. Got my star agent back from the dullest undercover gig of his life - seriously, how’d you even come up with that stick-in-the-mud?”

Ward shrugs like he’s suddenly feeling modest. Jemma can only stare, horror-struck.

“And,” Garrett continues, “I’ve got my star doctor back too. How’d you enjoy your time with SHIELD, sweetheart?”

He’s _looking_ at her and she can’t look back at him so her eyes fall to the floor where blood is pooling beneath Hand.

“Not terribly,” she says hollowly.

Garrett laughs again. “Nope, never thought they were really your style, don’t know what Phil was thinking bringing you on the team. But I’m sure you learned plenty.”

There’s an implication in his tone that she doesn’t like one bit. Much as she’d rather not, she meets his eyes. “You let me stay with the team hoping I’d discover the secret of Coulson’s resurrection,” she says.

“Always were the smart one, weren’t you? Course, then you went and blew the formula on that Comms agent.”

“Skye was _dying_ ,” Jemma snaps.

Garrett rolls his eyes. “She’s not the only one.” He pulls the gun off one of his dead guards and uses it to gesture between her and Ward as he stands. “You two make nice. I haven’t killed anyone in hours, crossing the pilot off should settle my nerves.”

He leaves and, without his overwhelming presence, Jemma can now feel the weight of Ward’s stare. It hasn’t left her since she pulled away from him.

He doesn’t give her the opportunity to do so again. Once Garrett is gone, he moves to the seat directly next to her, crowding her back against the corner. She makes to slap him and he catches her hand out of the air.

“I know you’re mad,” he says, using his free hand to brush her hair behind her ear. “And I know you’re scared. But don’t be. No one here is gonna hurt you.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, tucking her securely into his side. “I’ll keep you safe.” He seals the promise with a kiss to the back of her hand and then rests his head against the top of hers.

She watches the pool of blood expand and wonders who this real Ward is that he thinks she could  _ever_ believe that.

 


End file.
